Cramped Quarters
by SchrodingersMonster
Summary: The boys have escaped and are now living together! Its an AU story in that tbag still has his hand, and everyone is having very smutty feelings about each other XD read on to find out! rated t for language and hinted sexual situations. Will have T-bag/abruzzi and michael/lincoln and maybe more
1. Chapter 1

**Shopping Trip**

They'd been at the house Abruzzi had gotten them for less than two weeks, and Michael was already losing his mind.

After escaping Fox River, they'd left Haywire out in the cold and gotten on the plane to Panama. Abruzzi had aranged for a house to be made available to them for a few days, until everyone had plans to go their seperate ways. Unfortunately, since the late death of Charles Westmoreland, everyone was now after the money.

LJ was on the run from the Company agents, but he managed to make it down to Panama and was now also living with the Fox River boys in the cramped three bedroom house. Michael and Licoln had taken one bedroom, LJ and Tweener had been given one because they were the youngest and Linc insisted on it, Abruzzi had claimed one under the pretense that it was his house, and Sucre and C-Note had graciously chosen the living room, although Michael suspected it had something to do with Sucre watching Spanish TV shows at night. T-Bag had been delegated to Abruzzi's room, since the mobster was the only one that had no fear of the murderer and seemed to be able to control him, to an extent.

Although it was fairly spaceous, with three bedrooms and a living room, two bathrooms, a decent kitchen and a patio that led to the beach, things were getting tense and heated between the former inmates.

_Such as right now_, Michael thought as he rubbed his temples. Currently, the former inmates were sitting around the dining table, violently arguing about who was going to the grocery store for more supplies.

"Yo, homie, I ain't missing out on this shiz!"

"Sit and shut up, _pendejo_."

"Don' talk ta him like tha', boy, or I'll cut a nice grin in ya jugular, ya hear?"

"Like Hell you will, papi!"

"Is tha' a challenge?"

"Enough, Theodore."

"C'mon now, Johnny Boy. Jus' let me git one little scratch on him!"

"I said _enough_."

"Wow, this is like watching a gay soap opera."

"LJ, be quiet."

"But Dad-"

"ENOUGH!" Michael yelled, slamming his fist down on the table. Surprised, the seven other men looked at him in silence. "Look, we can't all go. Lincoln and I are too recognizable, so we shouldn't leave. LJ isn't safe on his own, and he still has agents after him. T-bag, you're not going anywhere. So-"

"Now look here, Pretty. I don' think-" T-bag started, but was cut off by a heavy glare from Lincoln.

"So," Michael continued, "That leaves Sucre, John, Tweener, and C-Note. Personally I think Fernando and John should go, because," here he had to raise his voice over the protests of the others, "Sucre speaks the language, and John has all the money anyways." He glanced around, and to his relief, there was grudging looks of acceptance on everyone's faces. Well, everyone except T-bag, but that was to be expected.

"Well then, it's settled." Michael stood up and handed the list to Abruzzi. "Try and get everything that's on here and anything else you think we need, but stay on the budget. Also, the faster, the better."

Before John or Sucre could reply, T-bag butted in with, "Tha faster, tha better. Why, Pretty, I didn' know you were _that _kinda man." Everything exploded at once.

LJ and Tweener were laughing loudly, Michael was rolling his eyes, Lincoln was trying to get a firm hold on T-Bag's throat, and Abruzzi was prying Linc off while simultaneously telling T-Bag that if he got his shit kicked in while he was gone, he was not to come crying to the Sicilian mobster. C-Note just looked annoyed.

After about five minutes, a struggle, and many curse words later, Sucre and Abruzzi had the list and were out the door, promising to be back in an hour or so.

_I have a feeling this is only the beginning_, Michael thought to himself and groaned. Suddenly, he felt fingers ghosting down his neck and over his spine.

"Watcha groanin' for, Pretty?" A voice drawled at his ear, "Got a lil too much... _tension_? Now, ya know ol' Teddy can fix tha' up real nice for ya."

_Yep, definitely just the beginning_.


	2. Chapter 2

Hang The Sheet

T-Bag dropped his backpack on the floor and draped himself on the bed languorously, staring up at Abruzzi with half-lidded eyes.

"So, Johnny Boy, what now?" He drawled. John glanced down at him, before rubbing a hand over his face and walking past Theodore to stand at the window. After several minutes of heavy silence, the mobster turned around, towering over T-Bag authoritatively.

"Rule One; you are not to touch any of my stuff." Abruzzi growled. "Rule Two; I am an extremely light sleeper, and if you even think about doing anything, I'll know. Are we clear, Theodore?"

The Alabamian's tongue crept up between his lips. "One thing, boss."

"What?" Abruzzi snapped.

T-Bag grinned crookedly. "How d'ya expect a man of my... disposition ta not be able ta touch when he sees somethin' he wants?" Snarling, Abruzzi grabbed the murderer by the throat and slammed him up against the wall, shoving his face an inch away from T-Bag's and squeezing his neck until he was gasping.

"I am in control here, not you!" John hissed, shaking the shorter man by the collar like a dog before jerking back and stalking to the other side of the room.

"I ain't sayin' nothin' about control, Johnny Boy. Yer more than welcome to tha' if ya want it." T-Bag said, his Southern accent dripping with lust and a hint of invitation. Abruzzi turned back to him, and in a flash, had him slammed back up against the wall again. But this time, the Sicilian's large hands weren't at T-Bag's throat but at his waist, pressing the rapist's thin hips back into the wall as Abruzzi bit the side of his neck and sucked, drawing out a long groan from the Alabamian, who in turn was fisting John's shirt and thrashing his head from side to side in wanting.

"Oooh, Johnny Boy, I jus' knew there was more to you than meets the eye." He panted. Abruzzi lifted his head for a moment to snarl, "Shut up, Theodore."

"Sure thang, boss." T-Bag's breath hitched as the mobster's hands moved from his hips to his belt, fingers fumbling to get it off. "I was just thinking..." He trailed off as his jeans slipped down over his hips.

"Yes?" Abruzzi prompted, eager to cut the talking and get to the consummating.

Theodore turned his head to look into John's eyes, his tongue once more flicking out between his teeth, a devilish glint flashing in his eyes as he responded.

"Maybe you should hang tha sheet, y'know, for old time's sakes?"

T-Bag chuckled vivaciously even as Abruzzi smacked him upside the head.

"Theodore, Theodore, Theodore, when will you learn?" John murmured grimly before turning and leaving the room. T-Bag stared after him, pants on the ground and a dark red hickey forming on his neck.

"Well, damn," the pedophile muttered as he pulled up his jeans and redid his belt, "Mr. Mafia Man has more game than I thought."


	3. Chapter 3

Thin Walls

Lincoln Burrows awoke to the sound of loud and incessant banging. He shot up in bed, his heart racing, and shook Michael.

"Hey, Mike, I think someone's at the door." He hissed in his brother's ear. Instantly awake, Michael Scofield opened his eyes, cocked his head, and listened.

"What do we do? What if the Feds found us? I need to get LJ." Linc was half out of bed and to the door when a slender, tattooed arm reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

"I think you'll find that that's not what that noise is." Michael grinned, chuckling and watching his brother's face go from pale white to beet red in understanding, embarassment, then rage.

"Are you kidding me?!" He growled, glaring at the wall venemously. "My son is less than twenty feet away." Linc the Sink stomped over to the wall that seperated his and Michael's room from the master bedroom, where T-Bag and Abruzzi slept. Although, judging from the sounds they were making, they definitely weren't sleeping at the moment.

Now that he was fully awake, Lincoln could hear the accompanying moans and growls and grunts and creaking of the bed as well as the sound of the headboard banging against the wall.

"Hey!" He yelled, banging his fist on the wall. "Knock it off! I'm trying to sleep!"

"Then shut up and sleep!" Came the growled reply from Abruzzi, as well as a loud laugh from T-Bag. Lincoln smashed his fist against the wall again, this time leaving a sligt indent in the thin wall.

"I'm not kidding, you assholes! My son is sleeping and I swear to God if you wake him up with your... acitivities, I'll rip you in half!"

"Little late for that, Dad." Called LJ from the other room, trying not to laugh. "I've been up for almost an hour."

By now, T-Bag was cackling with hysteria.

"Relax, Sink," he drawled, "We're teaching him a thing or twooooo..." The murderer's sentence abruptly petered off into a moan, and the banging noise resumed, louder than before. Lincoln snarled and stalked to the door, intent on making good on his promise, when his brother's voice stopped him.

"You're really gonna go out there like that?" Michael questioned form the bed, glancing up and down at Lincoln. The older brother's face colored when he realized that he was naked except for a pair of white boxers and he growled once more before yelling, "You two idiots better be far, far away when I wake up again or so help me God I will make sure you can't have children!" This was met with more laughter, with Sucre and C-Note joining in from the living room this time.

Muttering obscenities and cursing under his breath, Lincoln crawled back into bed and pulled his brother closer to him, burying his face in Michael's back, draping an arm over his stomach and sighing.

"Don't worry, Linc. LJ is sixteen, and I'm fairly certain he's been exposed to that before, if not from the internet then definitely lately." Michael murmured soothingly, rubbing his hand up and down Lincoln's arm in a gesture of comfort.

"Still," Linc growled overprotectively, "Those two murderers don't need to be exposing my son to stuff like that." His brother chuckled quietly.

"Linc, I think you might wanna worry more about his roommate than his next door neighbors."

"What're you... Oh no. No. Hell no." Lincoln shot back out of bed, boxers be damned. "Please don't tell me my son is messing around with Tweener, of all people." He looked horrified. Michael sat up and leant against the headboard, watching his brother pace back and forth angrily.

"Well, from what I caught them doing in the hallway when they thought no one was looking, it appears so." He said, grinning to himself. "Let's face it, we're a pretty fucked up family. A family of queer, weird, violent, crazy, convicts."

"You got tha' right, Pretty!" T-Bag shouted, him and Abruzzi laughing.

"Shut up!" Lincoln roared back, then turned once again to the bed. "I'm too tired to deal with this shit. Time for Linc the Sink to go sleepies." Crawling under the covers, he gripped his pillow roughly and fell asleep imagining that it was T-Bag or Tweener he was squeezing the neck of.


End file.
